


Specter

by Okadiah



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Force Ghost Kanan Jarrus, I can't let him go, I won't let him go, a touch bittersweet, but hopeful, dad!kanan, mostly lighthearted, series finale spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okadiah/pseuds/Okadiah
Summary: Kanan may have died, and yeah -- he didn't have a body anymore. But that didn't mean he wasn't around in the one way that still mattered.After all, he had a son now, and what kind of father would he be if he didn't keep an eye on him, even if he had to do it despite a little thing called death? Details, schmetails. He was determined to be the best dad ever.





	Specter

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. I went there. I wanted it and I took it. So what if I fudge around with the Force a little? I am shameless.
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy!

Kanan was there when Jacen was born.

Well, to be fair, he wasn’t _there_ there. But he’d been there. Force ghost or not, he hadn’t intended to miss the birth of his own son — _his son! —_ and so he hadn’t. More than anything, though, he wished Hera could’ve known he’d been there for the birth. Maybe, in her own way, she had because there had been moments in her pain and struggle and delirious exhaustion when she’d mumbled words to him. Whispered them. Told him how much she loved him. How she prayed he’d look after their baby from wherever he was now.

It was the easiest, quickest promise Kanan had ever made in his existence, and as he’d watched Hera curl their child against her chest, tears of love flowing down her cheeks, he knew _this_ was what his life had been about. His sacrifice … it had been all about this. Hera alive. His family alive. The rebellion well on its way to freedom from the tyranny of the Empire.

Jacen. Human-shaped. Green haired. Green-tinged around the edges. A cooer of nonsense and source of joy and hope for everyone who saw him.

Perfect.

To Kanan’s elation, it was his son of all people who saw him, and the love he held for the boy was boundless. He’d always heard silly stories about babies seeing angels and ghosts when they stared and giggled and babbled at nothing but open air. Kanan had never believed it, but never in his life was he happier to be wrong. He was beyond proud to be a silly story.

He couldn’t count how many hours he spent making funny faces at Jacen, just to hear him laugh. Or told him stories and sang to him until his son fell asleep, or distracted him so Hera could steal just one more hour of much-needed rest when Sabine or Zeb or Kallus or Chopper couldn’t. Since Kanan never got tired, the fun between him and his boy never ended, except for the times when it did and Jacen slept. He watched over him tenderly then, eagerly waiting for blue eyes to open and find him again.

As much as it saddened him, as Jacen grew older, the boy lost his newborn ability to perceive him. It started slowly, with baby blues sliding past him when yesterday they’d found him immediately. Or he’d cry and cry despite Kanan’s best efforts, as if Jacen couldn’t hear his favorite lullaby anymore. The days grew more frequent when Jacen wanted Big Sis Sabine, or Uncles Zeb and Kallus, or Grandpa Rex more. Craved the living and the world around him.

Then one day, Kanan just _knew_ Jacen couldn’t perceive him anymore. His son’s time as a newborn was over, and Kanan could only smile fondly because that was good. It was normal. Jacen was growing up.

That didn’t mean Kanan couldn’t still look out for him, even if no one would ever know.

It was in all the small, little ways Kanan protected Jacen. It was during those moments when no one was around and Jacen was a _little_ too close to the edge of a catwalk, and he’d subtly nudge his son closer to safety until one of the others found him again. Or when Jacen was at risk of putting something in his mouth that he shouldn’t, or going someplace he didn’t belong. Kanan’s interventions were slight influences in the Force, barely even there, but they _were_ there wherever the danger was greatest. Whatever he was able to do, whenever he could.

Kanan knew there would be a day when it wouldn’t be enough. Jacen was his and Hera’s kid after all – he was _bound_ to get himself into trouble sooner or later, and probably sooner. He’d get hurt. Experience sorrow and pain as much as happiness and love, and Kanan couldn’t stop it all. But that was okay. He trusted the others to teach Jacen everything he’d need to survive. Teach him how to make his way.

More than anything, Kanan couldn’t wait for the day Ezra would get to meet his little brother and take him under his wing. Teach him the ways of the Force, because already Kanan could see it glowing in Jacen like a brilliant star. One day the boy would come into it. One day, with Ezra’s help. He’d be a better teacher than Kanan ever was. He had no doubt.

But even then, he’d be there anyway. Doing what he could as he now knew Master Billaba had for him after her death. He’d be the lucky moments. The narrow escapes. The coincidences and moments of disbelief.

And one day, maybe he’d get _really_ lucky, Force willing. Perhaps one day, when Jacen was older, Kanan wouldn’t be just a specter in his son’s life. Perhaps one day, Jacen would grow strong enough in the Force to sense him again. It was a long shot — after all, he’d never been able to do it.

But maybe Jacen could.

And maybe, just maybe, there would be a day when he could make funny faces at his son again, and amaze him with stories and sing him songs, and tell him one more time just how much he loved him.


End file.
